


Distance Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

by CrimsonFandomTrash



Series: Detroit: Become Human Stuff - HankCon & Reed900 Hell [20]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Connor Deserves Happiness, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hank Anderson Deserves Happiness, Hank Anderson Swears, Homesickness, Let Connor Curse 2k39, Loneliness, M/M, More tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-12 19:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16001375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonFandomTrash/pseuds/CrimsonFandomTrash
Summary: Markus invites Connor on a trip. The good news, Connor will be able to experience something outside of Detroit. The bad news, he'll be in an entirely different country, and Hank won't be joining him, and the trip will be three weeks long.





	1. across an ocean

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been in my head for the past month so yknow... Here it is.
> 
> Beta read and titled by my friend Veriko! She really pushed me to work harder than usual. Thanks for putting up with my bs, dude.

   The sounds of people going about their business in the precinct were usually a comfort for Hank, given he was so used to everything. Familiarity was always nice, but as the phones rang off the hooks, and the smell of coffee, sweat, and blood permeated the office, Hank could tell this was going to be one of those mind-numbingly stagnant days.

   Stagnant of course meant desk work, as any kind of business outside of the precinct had been scarce for the Lieutenant as of recently. Not because of a lack of crime (because let's be honest, crime in Detroit, especially murders never really slowed down), but rather because Fowler found Hank did his job better when he was sitting at a desk. Or maybe it was a punishment for getting into a pissing match with Gavin the other day. Either way, Hank was perfectly content with not having to get off his ass. Connor, not so much. The younger man had always had a problem sitting still for too long, and so for the past couple of days, he seemed to be burying himself in his work. Or, at least, as much as he seemed to be able to, between messing around with small objects on his desk, tapping his feet, or fingers, anything that could occupy his mind, really. 

   Hank worked lazily on typing up a report. He'd just about finished it when he looked up from his terminal at the android sitting across from him. As soon as the younger man had noticed him staring, he looked up from what he'd been doing and gave Hank a small smile. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks almost immediately. "Do you need something, Lieutenant?"

   Almost seven months ago at this point, he would have asked that question as a machine, following orders, no free will, built to please. Now, the question was asked out of a desire to do something for him. Hank cleared his throat before he replied, looking back down at his work as the blood rushed to his face. "No, I'm good."

   The true nature of their relationship was a secret, as far as human resources and Captain Fowler were concerned. Gavin and Nines knew about them, but even Gavin had the good grace not to tattle. Or Nines had threatened him, which was an entirely possible, and pretty entertaining thought, to be honest. He still didn't know why Connor had told Reed in the first place, but then, he had told him that he could tell whoever he wanted. As much as Hank hated to admit it, Reed had been... well, less of a human turd lately, and although he felt the other RK model was mostly responsible for it, there was a small part of him that figured even Gavin couldn't be such a two-dimensional asshole for too long. It was almost like he was some sort of character written by a person who didn't know how to write actual bad guys. 

   Hank and Connor tried to keep as down-low about affection at work as possible. Connor called him by his rank, and they never did anything that could have been read into. Hank was technically his superior (even though Connor would have been way better at his job than Hank could ever wish to be, even if the android didn't have a forensics lab in his mouth), so that made it rocky territory. Neither of them knew what would happen if anyone at work caught on, and it wasn't even their goddamn business, to begin with. All interactions at work were strictly platonic, as they'd always been. No longing gazes or lingering touches allowed. 

   Connor leaned forward in his chair while Hank was stuck on that particular train of thought. "Lieutenant?" He looked up from his work, only to find warm brown eyes staring back at him. "Your lunch break is in five minutes."

   Hank sighed.  _Thank fuck_. "Let's leave now. I just finished working on a report. No point in starting up another one." Hank replied. He fully expected Connor to chastise him about the importance of work, yadda yadda yadda, shit he heard almost every day now that didn't make his blood boil even nearly as much as it had the first few days they'd worked together. Or, really at all, since Connor was hard to get mad at with those damn puppy dog eyes. Connor didn't say anything, only stood from his chair and put his arms behind his back. 

   Hank pulled himself up out of his chair with all the grace and speed of... well, a middle-aged man, and pulled out his car keys as he and Connor walked towards the entrance of the building.   
\------------------------

   Admittedly, Hank was very surprised when Connor hadn't lectured him when he pulled up outside of Chicken Feed. He supposed it had been a while since he'd had lunch here, and the younger man hadn't completely forbidden him from eating here.  _"Some bad things can be okay in moderation."_  He recalled hearing Connor say, months ago at this point. 

   He turned his head to look at Connor, who was busying himself with his fidget spinner before he'd noticed Hank's eyes on him. He looked up from the small stim toy. He smiled at him again. The good Lord was surely testing Hank. He cocked his head to the side, almost like a dog; a habit he'd had... well, since Hank had met him, at least. "Come on, let's go. I'm fuckin' starving." 

   "After you, Hank."

   Hank opened the car door and got out before walking across the street to his favorite haunt. Connor, being the poodle he was, followed after him. Not that Hank minded anymore. 

   "Hey, Hank."

   "Hey, Gary." He watched as Connor took his usual place next to him. 

   "That still with you?" The man asked.

   "He sure is," Hank replied, making sure to put emphasis on the word 'he'. Connor wasn't a 'that'. 

   "Usual?"

   "Nah, I'm still on a diet." He looked pointedly at Connor as he said this, and the android had the nerve to smile a smug little grin. Little shit, he was lucky Hank liked him. 

   "You had a light breakfast. If you had your usual, minus the extra large soda, you should be okay." Connor added oh-so-helpfully.

   Hank sighed. "Alright, then I'll have the usual and a medium diet Coke." He hated diet soda, but he also hated the thought of Connor watching him die of a heart attack. Gary gave a slow nod and got to work. 

   "Your android is a dietician?"

   "He's his own person. He just likes reminding me that I'm gonna die early if I keep my shit up."

   Gary had never been a fan of androids, and it seemed even in wake of the semi-recent events back in November that he still wasn't convinced. Hank didn't care, as long as he didn't try anything. Fuck him.

   Normally, he'd stick around after getting his food, stand at the table next to the food truck, but it was the ass end of May. Spring weather was in full effect, and in a few weeks, it'd be summer, so he and Connor went back to the car for the rest of lunch. He was about mid-way through his meal when he noticed that Connor had been very quiet, uncharacteristically so. His eyes darted over to the younger man, and Connor... had his eyes closed? "Uh, Con?" His eyes opened immediately, and he turned his head to look at Hank. "What're you doing?"

   "I'm talking with Markus," He answered. "He invited me to go on a trip with him."

   Hank cocked a brow. "A trip? Where to?"

   Connor played with his sleeve. "England."

   There was no reason for that to have made Hank feel the way he did right now, stomach twisting as the distance between here and there vaguely mapped out in his head. Rather, what was in between here and there; an entire fucking  _ocean_.  "Shit, that's far," He mumbled, trying to keep his surprise at bay. He hoped Connor wasn't monitoring his blood pressure. "Are you gonna go?"

   "I... Don't know." Connor replied, his voice sounded small. "It's three thousand, seven hundred and fifty-three miles from here, and across an ocean."

   Yeah, no shit, Hank didn't say out loud. His lunch wasn't sitting so well anymore. "Have you ever even been outside of Detroit?" The older man asked. Connor shook his head. 

   "Never even just outside the city limits. Detroit's all I've ever known." He looked like he wanted to add something onto that, mouth slightly opened to say something else before it closed.

   The fact that Connor had never even been outside the city definitely didn't help with the anxiety currently curling up and dying inside of Hank's gut. "Do you wanna go?"

   He shrugged. "He said it was for business matters, and that we'd be staying for three weeks."

   "You might like it." Hank offered. "Traveling seems like something right up your alley."

   Connor was curious. His curiosity had once been a tool, driving him to collect evidence in hope of completing an objective. Now, though, it was just a part of his personality. The android looked at new information and experiences through rose-colored lenses, never ceasing to be amazed by even the smallest things. Traveling would be perfect for him. "I might go." Connor had decided after a moment. "It would be nice to have experiences in a new place."

   "When's the trip planned for?" Hank asked.

   Connor was silent for a moment, and Hank assumed he was getting details about that information. "Thursday, June ninth, until Thursday, June thirtieth."

   "What's today?"

   "Wednesday, June first." Huh, so it wasn't the ass end of May.

   Shit, that wasn't that far away. "Well, you better decide quick if you wanna go. Jeffrey needs a week's notice for long vacations." Hank warned as he tossed the box for his meal in the trashcan situated behind his seat; Connor had put it there, of course.

   "I'll decide before tomorrow morning."

\--------------------------------------------------------

   He couldn't decide. 

   Every decision Connor had ever made, or at least most of them, he'd made with logic. Preconstruction, simulations, common sense. None of those things could help him with this. It shouldn't be possible, but the thought of going away for three weeks churned his non-existent stomach. He'd never known anything outside of Detroit, much less a different country. To put it into perspective, a single mile was about eight city blocks long. He'd be more than seventy-five thousand blocks away from Detroit, over an ocean. That was... terrifying. 

      He frowned in thought, sitting on the bed, listening to the sound of the shower as he changed into some of Hank's clothes. He wanted to go, really, he did. The fact that he'd never been anywhere other than Detroit made him want to go more than anything. But at the same time, it acted as a deterrent. He wanted to experience new things, but he didn't want to leave behind what he already knew. And then there was the fact that Hank and Sumo wouldn't be able to come with him, so the only slice of Detroit he'd have with him was Markus. And Markus was fine, he liked him well enough, but... Markus wasn't home. Hank and Sumo were. And they'd be three thousand miles away. 


	2. just three weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow, Connor would be leaving, and he had to suck it up. It was just three weeks. He'd been alone for three years before Connor had even shown up in his life, three weeks was so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He could do three weeks. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my wonderful beta reader Veriko. ^w^

   Hank woke up, as usual, to the smell of something being cooked, and coffee being brewed. After a few moments, his tired brain helpfully supplied him with three words;  _bacon and eggs_. He wobbled on his feet a little as he stood from the bed, catching his balance by leaning against the wall as a few moments of dizziness took over. Fuck, he was getting too old to get out of bed that quickly. 

   After a quick trip to the bathroom, with sleep still in his eyes, Hank staggered down the hallway and into the kitchen. Connor looked over from where he stood at the stove and gave Hank a small smile. "Good morning, Hank."

   "Mornin'," Hank replied, voice hoarse. "You ever gonna let me cook for myself, or are you gonna continue being a housewife?"

   Connor looked like he was in thought for a moment, and Hank figured he was probably looking something up. Finally, the other man shrugged. "I like cooking. I'm good at it. Plus, it helps me make sure you're putting the proper nutrients into your body."

 _Yeah, but isn't that kinda contradictory to what Markus was fighting for?_  Hank didn't say, because they've already had this argument before, and, shocker, Connor had won. So, the older man cut his losses. If Connor wanted to cook and clean, let him. He found it fun, Hank wasn't forcing or pressuring him into it. No point in fixing what wasn't broke- though, he made a note in his head to start at least helping Connor out a bit more, since he was the one making the messes to be cleaned and needing the food to eat, in the first place. Otherwise, there'd be no use for Connor to be cooking and cleaning.

   Hank took his seat at the table with a drawn-out yawn. "So, decide whether or not you're going on that trip?" He asked, feigning as if there wasn't a feeling of sickness swirling around in his stomach. He really hoped Connor had decided against it, but then, that was a really selfish need. The reason he didn't want Connor to go was that he didn't want to have to live without him for a few weeks, which really, was pathetic. He'd gone years without someone. He gets attached to this one specific person, and suddenly the thought of him leaving was making his insides do backflips. 

   Connor seemed to tense at the question. "I haven't decided just yet. I was hoping you could help me with that."

   God, he shouldn't have this opportunity right now, not when everything in him screamed to tell Connor he shouldn't go.  _Tell him he should stay_ , a voice repeated in the back of his head over and over like a mantra. "Do you wanna go?"

    _Say no_ , he begged in his head. Every second stretched on forever, and Hank just wanted to hear that one word. No. The thought of Connor going to another country, and something bad happening to him didn't sit right with him. Did England even have androids? Would they have the parts necessary to fix him, should something go wrong? What if there wasn't any way of fixing him? What if Connor left and never came home?

   As much as he wanted to, Hank couldn't bring himself to let his selfish needs and fears get in the way. "I think you'd like it. You'd get to see some new shit, maybe meet some new people, learn some things." Every word that came out felt like betrayal, a barrage of 'what ifs' swirling through his head as he fought down the urge to tell Connor something that would make him stay. 

   Specifically, the thought of 'what if he never comes back' was a popular one, because the thought of losing Connor was only outmatched by the memory of... well, no need to continue that particular train of thought at eight in the morning. "I'll be very far away from Detroit... About three thousand, seven hundred fifty-three miles, for a rough estimate." That did nothing to make Hank feel better. "Would you be okay with me going away that far for that long?"

   "Fucksake, Con, this isn't about me." Hank snapped a bit. He sighed at seeing how Connor deflated at the statement. "Sure, it'd suck not having you around, but you seem to have this real bad habit of forgetting that you're your own person now. You can make your own decisions, you don't always have to take my feelings into account, and you sure as hell shouldn't be asking permission. I'm not the boss of you. I shouldn't be the deciding factor on whether or not you go somewhere. You should decide that yourself."

   "It sounds like fun..." Connor said, not sounding thoroughly convinced. The thought that maybe Connor didn't want to go was definitely a relieving one, and Hank kind of hated himself for it. He'd get over it. "I want to explore new places, and learn new things, I'm just... apprehensive."

   "Traveling can be a scary thing." Hank supplied. "Especially going to an entirely new place, and especially across an entire ocean. The only question now is whether or not it's worth it."

   "I don't know," Connor said as he flipped the bacon in the pan. 

   Hank let his selfish thoughts stew in his head for a moment while silence overtook the room. "Well, no pressure, but you're kinda on a time limit. So you're gonna have to decide before the end of the day whether you wanna go or not, cuz Fowler still needs a week notice, and it's a week away."

   "I'll decide before the end of the day," Connor replied. Though none of his usual excitement or confidence filled the sentence. Hank decided not to push. He'd said everything he could on the matter without bringing his own securities or greedy desires into the mix, and had only posed the question on whether Connor had wanted to go or not. That was really the most he could do from a neutral standpoint, even though he was nowhere near neutral. 

   The rest of the day went as follows; Hank and Connor ate breakfast (though, Connor always ate significantly smaller portions, since he only joined in on meals to help better blend in), and then Hank drove them to work. Connor got a cup of coffee, as he almost always did, and as usual, Nines and Gavin spent most of their day bickering. Connor seemed even more fidgety than usual, though, tapping his pen on the desk, checking his email over and over again. He looked genuinely torn, he wasn't even pretending to be focusing on his work by the second half of the day. And this was Connor, someone who had scolded Hank from day one about doing your job, and shit like that. 

   Hank had, at some point after his third cup of coffee for the day, needed to go to the bathroom. He fully expected to come back to his desk to find a fidgety android, but Connor's seat was surprisingly empty. Eyes darting around the bland, mostly colorless area that was the precinct, Hank soon spotted him. He was in Captain Fowler's office.

   He felt his heart immediately sink to his stomach. So, he'd decided to go. And based off of body language alone, the conversation seemed to be going well, which more than likely meant that Jeffrey was probably going to let him go. That wasn't a surprise, Connor was one of the hardest working people in the entire precinct. Gavin fucked around too much in the break room, Nines was unfortunately stuck with him, and everyone else was usually either really lazy or really mediocre at their job. Hank fell into the former category, and years worth of not giving a shit to do his job correctly had basically damned the rest of his career, at this point. 

   Hank went back to his desk. Connor had made his decision, he wanted to go, and Hank just had to suck it up and be happy for him. He'd get to see new things, and be his own person for a little while without this old bastard dragging him down. He'd be better off. He'd enjoy himself. Hank was just being bitter and clingy. There wasn't any reason for him to be reacting this way. Connor wasn't going away forever, just a few weeks. Plus, there was that saying that distance made the heart grow fonder or some shit like that. Sounded like the title of a really cheesy book about some teenagers Skyping each other from across the world and calling it a 'relationship', if he was honest. 

   Connor soon returned and sat on the edge of his desk, which made Hank look up at him. "Decided to go?" Hank asked, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone. Connor didn't deserve it. 

   The android nodded a little. "You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant. Does my leaving make you upset?"

   And now Hank was gonna have to stare into those chocolate brown eyes and lie because knowing Connor if he knew the true nature of how he was feeling right now (which, again, was over dramatic and exaggerated for a three-week trip), he'd cancel. And he'd already had a hard enough time convincing Connor that he shouldn't make all of his decisions based on how Hank was feeling, because it really wasn't his place to influence his choices. "Huh? Oh, nah. I'll miss you and all, but it's just a couple weeks. 'S not like you'll be gone forever." He hoped that last sentence was true. 

   Connor's brows seemed to pull together, and his lips thinned into a small frown. Hank didn't need to have expression reading software to know Connor didn't believe him. He kept his expression neutral, though, because Connor did have expression reading software. If Connor could tell he was lying, he didn't bring it up. "Okay." He replied. He went back over to his own desk and sat down. "By the way, your lunch break is in fifteen minutes."

   "I'm not hungry."  
\---------------------------

   "So, what, Eightball's leaving us?"

   The question had come from none other than cardboard cutout douchebag Gavin Reed. "You seem to really like giving nicknames to people you supposedly hate." Hank pointed out casually as he sipped his fifth cup of coffee. Connor had advised against more caffeine this late in the day, Hank had ignored him. "Really? Eightball?"

   "It's not my fucking fault he has a doppelganger he needs to be told apart from." Gavin spat, though lately there was less acid in his voice. "So, yeah. Eightball."

    _Whatever, you just don't wanna admit that you don't hate him_ , Hank also decided not to say out loud. "To answer your question, though I don't see why the hell you'd give a shit. Yeah, Connor's leaving for a couple weeks to visit England."

   "That's rather unfortunate." Nines chimed in from the corner of the room. 

   "'Least this place'll be quiet for the next couple weeks," Gavin said with a roll of his eyes. 

   Hank watched the Connor look-alike in the corner furrow his brows with a sharp frown. "Detective, you and I are usually the loudest ones here." 

   "Fuck off, Nines." And then Hank left the break room, one, because Connor would be wondering why it was taking him so long to get coffee, and two, because he felt an argument coming on. The shouts coming from the room as soon as he left proved that theory correct. 

   "It seems Detective Reed and Nines can't get over their sexual tension," Connor muttered as Hank sat down. 

   "Nope." Hank agreed with a laugh. God, he was going to miss this. Making fun of Gavin, listening to music on the way to work, going to sleep in the same bed... He'd better make the most of the next week.   
\--------------------------------

   Connor was equal parts terrified, equal parts excited, and equal parts hesitant when he'd stood from his chair and had walked up to Fowler's office. The feelings followed him through the conversation with him, and then followed him through the rest of the day. As he stood at the stove making dinner while Hank chopped vegetables next to him, he couldn't help but feel two very contradicting things at once; that he'd made the right choice, and at the same time, a horrible one.

   He'd known Hank had been lying to him back at the office about how he really felt about him leaving. Hank very rarely let his expression be a tell in how he was feeling, but in the seven months they'd known each other, Connor had learned how to tell how to read Hank (if only a little). He didn't address the issue, however, since talking about anything Hank was upset about was like walking on eggshells with cinder blocks strapped to your feet. 

   "So, uh, what time's your flight?"

   The question dragged Connor out of his thoughts as he remembered the details of his ongoing chat with Markus. "Eleven in the morning." He replied. 

   "Guess I'll have to go into work late, then," Hank muttered. 

   Connor sighed. "You shouldn't break your streak. You haven't been late to work once since I moved in."

   Hank shrugged. "Oh, well. I wanna see you off. If anyone's got an issue, they can file a complaint with my ass."

   Another made up phrase to be put in the 'Hank-isms' folder. "Won't Captain Fowler be mad?"

   "Jeffrey doesn't expect anything less from me, without you there to bust my balls."

   Most people would take that as an insult, but Connor just took it as a reminder. No Hank, or Sumo, or work. No Gavin, or Nines. No Detroit for three weeks. The feeling of having made a horrible decision swirled with the excitement for adventure once again, and it made him frustrated. It also quickly registered in his head that it sounded like he hadn't wanted Hank to come with him to the airport when that was far from true. "It's not that I don't want you there to say goodbye to me, it's just... being late once could be a slippery slope." 

   The older man shrugged again. It seemed like there was a multitude of things he wanted to say, but he didn't. Connor continued cooking while Hank cut vegetables, and they didn't talk about it for the rest of the night.   
\--------------------------------------------

   The week came and went, and try as he might to enjoy the little bit of time he had left with Connor before the three-week-long trip, Hank spent most of that week thinking about how he had to enjoy the time they had left together instead of actually enjoying it. It was Wednesday morning, and even now, he couldn't seem to just stop worrying and just live in the moment. 

   Connor sat across from him, quietly doing his work, as always. Most people would spend their last day at work before a trip talking to co-workers or pretending to be working while going over the last details of their trip in their head, but not Connor. He seemed determined to work up until the last minute. It really confused Hank as to how he'd not been promoted yet; Connor had done more work in the past seven months than Hank had in the past three years. Probably. 

   He did take a short break when Hank went to go get his third cup of coffee for the day. As Hank made himself a cup of the steaming hot caffeinated drink, Connor and Nines discussed Connor's inevitable departure. "I'm sorry to see you go. Making fun of Detective Reed will be a lot less entertaining without an audience."

   "I'm sorry to go, too," Connor replied. "I won't be able to watch him get pissed from all the way in England." Hank could basically hear the smile in Connor's voice.

   "I'm right fucking here, you stupid toasters."

   Hank turned around from the coffee machine in time to see both Nines and Connor stick their tongues out at him. The detective only rolled his eyes with an expression that Hank read as 'I need more caffeine for this shit'. 

   It was like he blinked, and suddenly, the day was over. He and Connor had made and had dinner, he'd taken a shower, and when he came out, Connor was packing his bag for tomorrow. More accurately, for the next three weeks. Connor looked up from what he'd been doing, and Hank felt the same gut-wrenching feeling he'd felt when this whole thing had been brought up in the first place, multiplied tenfold. Of course, he'd never tell Connor how much he was gonna miss him. That'd just guilt him into staying. Although that would be nice, it was a self-serving thought that Hank had to push away. 

   Tomorrow, Connor would be leaving, and he had to suck it up. It was just three weeks. He'd been alone for three years before Connor had even shown up in his life, three weeks was so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He could do three weeks. Right?

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this. Remember if you did to leave a comment and a kudos plz!! I love comments and kudos. They make my gay little heart sing and give more motivation to keep doing what I'm doing.
> 
> Y'all know what else makes my gay little heart sing? Fanart. Love me some fanart. If you have any of that, make sure to send it my way (social media is in my profile bio). 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you have a nice day! =^_^=


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